


The One With The Blond Hair

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 08:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: Oikawa, stuck in the library with an unfinished assignment, is visited by Kuroo, who has nothing better to do.





	The One With The Blond Hair

**Author's Note:**

> This is so not meant to be taken seriously.

There was no one at the library—that is, except for Oikawa, who had his books pinched under one arm. They were heavy, no doubt, but no more than the bag that he had slung over his shoulder. The combination of his laptop and his texts bent his back, and he swore that he nearly threw it out while walking up the stairs.

Having no other living being around him—not counting the withering librarian, who slept on the verge of death anyway—was a double-edged sword. For one, he could search up whatever he liked whenever he liked. He could also do without all the murmuring or other students who flipped their pages at an obnoxious volume. Or maybe, he could _try_ —key word: try—to get ahead in his class work.

On the other hand, if he accidentally choked on spit, no one would hear and he would die in the most mortifying fashion known to mankind. Then his pathetic death would foster rumors around campus, and his name would be synonymous with "choking on air."

He shuddered.

At this time of day, it was common to see at least five faces occupying the space, so his surprise was warranted at the lack of people. But then he remembered that _oh yeah, the school festival is today_. Everyone would be on the main road—there would be games, pungent aromas of food, and inevitable shouting from all the clubs around campus.

Truthfully, he wanted to go. He was supposed to be the face of the volleyball team; in fact, he was voted the best representative due to his good looks and charming wit. But no, one bad grade, a good half hour of begging to his professor, and his lack of management skills led to him working on his make-up assignment last minute.

 _In true Shittykawa fashion._ Great, his subconscious had even taken on Iwa-chan's voice to reprimand him. In turn, he fired off a text with a slew of emojis he knew would set his best friend off.

Working at the library meant no distractions. But that didn't mean he should limit himself, right? So again, in true 'Shittykawa' fashion, he took a seat near the window, where he had the perfect vantage point of all the festivities. He fished out his laptop and pulled it open, where it immediately displayed last night's Youtube adventures.

But he didn't notice. His attention was completely and utterly focused on everything that was happening outside. He could see everything.

Yet he missed the head of messy black hair that disappeared underneath the treetop and pulled open the library door.

Oikawa sighed wistfully and pouted. He wanted to join—he wanted to mess around, brag about his team, or even flirt around for fun. But that was all just a daydream now...a reality that would never happen.

"Oya? What's this?"

Oikawa internally flinched because he knew that voice. That sleezy, dragged out voice that never failed to hold some sort of mischievous intent. When he slowly looked up, one of the first things he noticed was that infuriating crooked smile that only Kuroo Tetsurou could pull off.

"Work, remember?" He slapped open a book, the hardcover slamming the table with a resounding bang that was much louder than he'd intended. The librarian up front snorted loudly before falling back asleep while slumped over her desk.

That's when he noticed that Kuroo wasn't staring at his books or at him. He was staring at his laptop screen. At the hundreds of tabs that were open at the top of his browser. The bright red Youtube logo that sat in the top left corner. And the colorful music video that overtook a good half of the screen.

"And honestly, nothing much _except_ work. How's it going down there?"

Kuroo snorted. "It's going fine. Bo loves the attention since he's the 'face' of the team right now." Oikawa pouted; _he_ was supposed to be the face. But he had to reap what he sowed, so here he was. "But really. What are you watching? It's not Japanese but...Korean?"

Kuroo pulled out the seat next to him and plopped down, leaning back to cross his arms behind his head.

"It's K-pop. Korean pop," Oikawa said, grabbing his laptop and sliding it closer to himself. He knew he was acting somewhat defensively, but he didn't know how else to react. He knew the stigma against the genre—that it was mainly teenage girls who liked the pretty young men and women who sang catchy songs and danced difficult choreographies.

Kuroo held up his hands and arched his brows at him. "Whoa, whoa. I was just curious. I've heard of the band before. Aren't they worldwide at this point? They performed in America, right? What was it—" He snapped his fingers. "—Billboard? Or was it some other award show?"

"You know them?" Oikawa leaned back, somewhat stunned. Internally, he knew he shouldn't have been so surprised.

Kuroo shrugged, "Well, they're on Japanese media as well. It's hard not to figure out who they are." Then he dug around his sweatpants, paused, and yanked out a tangled bundle of earbuds. With some effort and swearing, he managed to detangle them and plugged the jack into his laptop. "If you're all right with it."

Oikawa nodded, still somewhat dumbfounded, and took the offered bud. He stuck it into his ear, just as Kuroo slapped the space bar. The music video resumed to feature playful dance moves, which changed to colorful explosions, and then back to the group, which now donned traditional Korean outfits.

Kuroo whistled, "Look at those suits. And is his hair half blond, half pink?" He paused. "And is that a giant shark?" Oikawa snorted, more occupied with Kuroo's reaction. He didn't seem to have any other comments other than how he'd like to try wearing one of their colorful printed suits. He bobbed his head in time to the music, and when it ended, the next video in Oikawa's playlist popped up, depicting the same group with different fashions.

"Ooh, this one is darker," Kuroo mused. He leaned back but kept his eyes on the screen. Oikawa rolled his eyes and flipped through his book to find his dog-eared page. He paused as Kuroo whistled. "And it's more instrumental. I like it."

"That's cause it's the rocking version. The original is good too, but I like this one more."

The melody was more than familiar at this point, and Oikawa mouthed along the lyrics. Even with his limited exposure to Korean, he'd listened to the song enough to know what verses came next. The table rocked and his scribbling flew off his page. Oikawa turned to glare at Kuroo, who at this point was drumming his index fingers along the edge of the table.

He bobbed his head to the beat, eyes shut as he sang incoherent words under his breath—or his broken form of the language. At some points, there came the guitar riff, and Oikawa could only watch, absolutely exasperated, as Kuroo banged his head like a guitarist would on stage.

"What are you doing?" He flipped his pencil and began to erase away the jagged line that flew off the page.

Without opening his eyes, Kuroo answered, "Appreciating the music, of course. It's good. I like it."

"If you like meaningful lyrics, then I think you'd like the song even more," Oikawa sniffed, then blew away the eraser shavings that littered the page. "We can't speak Korean, but translation websites exists for a reason." Kuroo hummed and continued to bob his head, even when the song ended.

The next video began to play, but this one was much slower, the video opening with an image of the earth. Kuroo leaned in close, interest piqued—the nerd. It zoomed in until the earth disappeared to display an eye. And Oikawa's grip on his pencil loosened. He couldn't help it—he loved the song. It was so gentle, sung with such a tender voice. It also helped that the music video was just so aesthetically pleasing to the eye.

And it had stars. Oikawa loved anything that had to do with space.

"When you see me, when you touch me," he sang under his breath.

He hummed along and had to bite his tongue to keep from singing out loud. The librarian may have looked like death, but she had a temper as hot as the flames of hell. If he were home, though, it'd be a very different story. Even more so, if in the shower.

It was too bad it was only two and a half minutes. Kuroo seemed disappointed that it had to end as well, and he pressed down on the space button before the next song could come on. "I should go back before Bo gets too rowdy, but thanks for letting me loiter around." Oikawa yanked his earbud out and handed it over to him, and Kuroo stuffed the bundle into his pocket.

Pushing himself out of the chair, he groaned and stretched his arms over his head, arching his back. "I like the one that rapped. He was spitting fire, man."

Oikawa closed the tab, partly because he didn't need any more distractions and partly because he didn't want to waste all the battery on his laptop watching more Korean pop videos. "Really? You? Like rap? We all know you're a big softie," Oikawa snorted; he knew his friend inside and out.

Kuroo shrugged and started for the door. But then he paused in his step and backtracked until he stood next to his empty seat. He clapped the top of the back of the chair, and Oikawa sighed. "What?"

Kuroo pointed at his laptop, and a slow grin begin to widen on his face. "They're all good and talented, but you're right. I'm a big softie, which is why I prefer Jimin's singing over Suga's rapping." Before Oikawa could fully process his words, Kuroo walked away.

"But—but I thought you didn't know them?" Oikawa spluttered, gaping at his retreating figure.

Kuroo barked out a laugh and then turned over his shoulder to send him a wink. "Good luck on your stuff. Don't get too distracted watching BTS's videos—I know I do."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I made them BTS fans. Fight me.


End file.
